


The Pines Way

by StoneSabre



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drama, Family Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoneSabre/pseuds/StoneSabre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Stanford and his twin brother, the day they began to live by their father's will was the day their childhoods perished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Parasite

Stanford strained to walk straight as he headed home in the pouring rain. He grunted every time his soaking wet clothes hugged the bruises and sores running up and down his arms, chest, legs, face and... everything else. If it wasn't for the lights on the street leading to his house, the rain drops running down the new fractures in his glasses would have left him blind. If he was a bit older - and wasn't (supposed to be) the responsible, hardworking golden child of the family - this might have been a typical Friday night.

When he finally came to his house, he timidly knocked on the door before a wave of dizziness staggered him, forcing him to reach for the door frame in order to balance himself.

He was greeted by his father, glasses predictably obscuring his stern, unamused expression.

"Hi dad." He greeted sheepishly.

"You're late." Filbrick growled, barely concealing his disappointment, before motioning for him to come inside in an authoritative manner.

He entered to the sight of his mother, who was sitting on the guest couch with the baby, when she stood up in both concern and relief.

"There you are! Let me look at you," She sighed as she walked towards him, reaching one arm out to caress his face while the other still carried his infant brother. "You're glasses are broken!"

"Where have you been? You look like shit," His father interjected.

"Filbrick!" His mother scolded.

"Well he does. Look at him! Your mother and I had to camp down here in the shop waiting on your ass. What've you been doing?"

"I was just *hiccup* studying at the library," Ford stammered. It was a weak lie, he knew. He was too tired to think of a better one.

"Well, you look like you've been in a fight. I hope you got in a few good hits, 'cause I didn't put you up to those boxing lessons for nothing."

Ford could hardly hold down a scoff.

"Go clean yourself up. Hand your clothes to your mother so she can dry them off."

Ford wordlessly complied as he began towards the stairwell, but another wave of dizziness swept over him, and he had to steady himself on the store counter before continuing.

Before he could get to the stairs, a firm hand landed on each of his shoulders and jerked him back around, which did no favors for his already disoriented state. He was once again facing his father's judgmental glare.

"Are you drunk?"

The moment Filbrick dropped the question, Ford became a deer in the headlights. He was really hoping he could get upstairs before anyone noticed.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you, boy."

"No," Ford mouthed almost inaudibly.

"No what? Speak up!"

"No, sir." Ford answered louder. "I got hit in the head."

"Breath on me."

"Huh?"

"Breath on me!"

Ford sulked as he let out a timid exhale. He whimpered when his father suddenly grabbed him by the jaw and lifted his chin up to his face.

"My nose is up here, boy!"

Ford breathed again. No use trying to hide it anymore.

Filbrick took in a strained sniff of his breath, before his face contorted in grave disappointment. "Whiskey," he growled, letting the word roll off his tongue like cobra venom.

For one fleeting instant, it looked like his father was going to lift his fist and strike him in his face. But that very moment he started, he stopped himself. It seemed for just the slightest instant, he had forgotten, then immediately remembered, that he wasn't talking to Stanley. Figures he would never lay a hand on his _favorite_ (read: potential money-making) son.

"Look boy, I don't know where you got this, or who sold it to you. But if word got out that my _underage_ son was buying alcohol on the side, do you have **any** idea what might happen to my business? Hell, what might that do to your potential scholarships."

"I-I'm sorry, dad." Ford began to apologize before he was forcefully shoved towards the stairwell. He caught himself on the wall before he could fall backwards.

"Your curfew is six o'clock from now on and not a minute later, until I decide I can trust you again. Now get up those stairs, clean yourself off, and sober up!"

Ford wordlessly turned away before making his way, but at the entrance to the stairwell, he stopped.

"Don't be a disappointment like your brother. You're better than that, Stanford."

Maybe it was the mention of Stanley that flipped the switch. Maybe it was spending the day getting beaten up and then subsequently yelled at by his father that broke the floodgates. Perhaps it was just his drunkenness that pushed him over the edge. Whatever the reason was, in that moment, something inside of him snapped.

"Why..."

He was still facing the stairs when he uttered that single word, but it was loud enough for both of his parents to hear.

"What?" Filbrick shot back angrily.

"Why did you do it?" Ford said louder.

"Boy, you need to sober up before you even think about speaking another word to me."

Filbrick didn't yet know where his son was going with his drunken ramblings... or at least he pretended not to know. His wife, on the other hand, could tell what was coming, and her heart pounded with anxious concern for her son.

"Why... did you make him leave?"

It was one of those rare moments when Filbrick couldn't find words to respond with, yet he was immediately understanding. He knew he was eventually going to have this conversation with his son... the one still welcome in his home.

Ford suddenly turned back around, marched towards his father, and started releasing all the pent up grief he had built up since watching his twin brother drive away, never to be seen again, and dealing with the subsequent, crippling loneliness.

"He's out there by himself, on his own, no one to help him, and all you care about is that he 'disappointed' you. He was my brother. He was my best friend! He was your son!"

" _He_... was holding you back."

"You abandoned him!" Ford, in a hysterical fit of despair, grabbed onto his father's shirt and shouted at him with tears in his eyes. "He was your son! We were his family, the only family he had, and we abandoned him! Doesn't that mean anything to you!?"

Ford's mother could only stand to the side, closing into herself with grief for Stanford's sadness. The baby in her arms cried amidst the ruckus.

Filbrick briefly let the heaviness hang in the air, before he finally spoke. "It means something to me. But it doesn't matter." Filbrick answered, truthfully and bluntly. "I have to think about what's best for you."

"What?" Ford pulled back with a horrified gasp.

"You think I only care about _my_ disappointment? I have to put _you_ and _your_ future above everything else. The fact is your stupid, selfish, worthless twin brother ruined the best chance you had at making a name for yourself. I knew you wouldn't have the guts to get rid of the wretched parasite suffocating you and leeching off of every bit of your hard work, so I did it for you."

"How can you say that about your own son!?" Stanford cried.

"It's the cold hearted truth, sad as it is." Filbrick then held his arms out in an ironic, self-victimizing manner. "'Why's it matter to me.' Does it matter to you? You watched me throw him out on the street that night. I didn't hear you speaking up for him. Not a peep."

"But I still care about him! That night I was so mad. All I could think of was just how mad I was at my brother that I didn't know _what_ to say. But dad, I still care about him!"

"You best cut that out. 'Cause I can guarantee he doesn't care about you."

"Don't say that!"

"No boy, you need to understand. In this world you're going to come across people who will pretend to care about you. But they seek nothing more than to use what you have for their own benefit, and won't give not one damn the price you have to pay for it."

"But it's my brother we're talking about!"

"And that's exactly the kind of excuse that these people expect you to make for them. They depend on your forgiveness and they'll use it against you."

" **STOP IT!** "

"That's enough Filbrick!" His wife finally found her voice as she watched her son break down before her eyes. But Filbrick ignored both of their pleas.

"One day you're gonna be on your own, and I'm not gonna be around to protect you from these people. If your gonna spend your entire life trying to make other people happy, you're gonna get caught up in a lot of shit you shouldn't have to deal with. People will realize they don't have to lift a finger to fix their own problems when they can just get someone else to do their dirty work. They're gonna suck you dry, boy, until your old and stuck down in the slums with nothing to show for all the things you've done for every no-good piece of shit!"

"Filbrick!"

"Heed my word, boy, and heed it well. In this world, **there's no one you can trust**."

"Filbrick! That's enough!"

His mother stepped between them, finally ending her husband's bitter triad, but the damage had been done. This was the point of no return.

Filbrick laid out, clear as day, what kind of man he wanted Stanford to be. He wanted him to be a man that had no need - nor want - to care about his brother. A man that didn't need family or friends. A lone wolf.

Him, Stanford - the feeble, six-fingered freak - on his lonesome.

It was as if every ounce of innocence inside of him was breaking, turning into dust, and being swept away.

"Stanford, go upstairs and get yourself cleaned up. Please." His mother insisted. It felt like she was the only crutch he could use to stand with at this point.

She gently led her son back to the staircase, and with a body as heavy as iron, he finally disappeared up the stairs. She then addressed her husband, who was now staring out the window, wholly exasperated and disturbed by his cold-heartedness.

"Filbrick!"

"What?"

"I know you want nothing more than to see Stanford become a man. But right now it's too early. He's still just a boy, and he just lost his brother. He's too young for all of this."

"That doesn't matter. He'll learn, one day. He'll learn that I'm right."

"That's not the point. Your son is lost right now. He needs you to be father!" She gave a hopeless sigh, before she too disappeared up the stairs with their infant son still in her arms, leaving Filbrick alone in the shop.

"He'll learn that I'm right." He repeated to himself in a whisper and not a hint of remorse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. This is my first Gravity Falls fic and my first ever submission to AO3. This is also the first thing I've post after coming out of a 4-month long writers block.  
> What you see here is the first of a multi-chaptered fic which is essentially a character study of the Stan twins (primarily Stanford) and their family dynamics. I wanna hear your thoughts, so please leave a review.


	2. Leave This Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford takes in the breath of the sea, desperately grasping for his fleeting innocence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What you're about to read is actually a rewrite of a chapter I already posted. When I reread the original version of this chapter, I realized I wasn't satisfied with the end result, and I just couldn't move on to chapter 3 while leaving off on such a mess.  
> Even if you already read the original version of this chapter, I urge you to read this revised version. Other than changing a LOT of details and giving it much more polish, I expanded it to take an even more introverted look at Ford's character and flesh out Ma Pines a little more.

A pleasant Saturday afternoon followed the next day, but Ford felt just as gloomy as the storm that passed through the previous night.

After he found just the slightest modicum of strength to leave the house that morning, his feet dragged him to the library on autopilot. The school year was almost over, but he needed to get a head start on his studies to prepare for... whatever college would take him at this point.

(In reality, he just wanted to find something- anything to distract him from the perpetual, suffocating loneliness he'd been dealing with for an amount of time he couldn't even be bothered to keep track of.)

He wanted so desperately to just bury himself in the library's collections and let his mind absorb their knowledge. He shuffled through science books, encyclopedias, storybooks... It wasn't until he found himself flipping through a cooking book that he knew he could only stay in denial for so long. Every page might as well have been a canvas of squiggly lines. His heart just wasn't into it.

So he left the library, and predictably he couldn't stop himself from going towards the only place he knew, besides home, that once provided the nostalgic comfort he longed to have back in his life.

He trudged through the streets by his lonesome, the only company he ever had or wanted nowhere to be found, only existing in his memories. Glass Shard Beach wasn't a crowded city, so there wasn't much that could pull him away from the confines of own mind.

He passed the park where he could faintly hear the distant laughter of children with their families, enjoying their weekend outdoors together. The school year was drawing to a close, and the children were eager for the beginning of summer. He remembered the days he spent with his brother at the end of their school years, planning out and dreaming of all the adventures they would have over the summer.

From the Juke Joint he could hear the droning of contemporary music, and he remembered afternoons at the diner... no parents, no school mates. Just him, his brother, and a satisfying meal on a Friday evening.

He passed the banquet hall where Glass Shard Beach High School hosted it's Senior Prom. He remembered his failed date with the girl who threw a glass of punch in his face, and then his brother, who was there to be a failure right alongside him. To think that was only one month prior...

Soon, his feet were gliding over sand dunes as the ocean's swaying blue carpet filled his ears with their dance. He passed the pier and the eroding rocks and caves, until he came to the pair of swings. The sight of this place pierced through his trance as if reminding him, if only for an instant, that he wasn't a ghost drifting in a physical body.

They sat here in each other's company on countless occasions, but his mind chose the memory of the last time they were ever here together... the beginning of the end. The memory was so recent and so vivid, he could see them - Stanley and himself - conversing about their, at the time, uncertain future.

_"Heh, joke's on them if they think you want to go to some stuffy college on the other side of the country. Once we get the Stan 'o' War complete, it's gonna be beaches, babes and international treasure hunting for us."_

_Stan assumed he and his brother were on the same page, that Ford wouldn't think of reconsidering the life they'd decided to live together since before they were even teenagers. Ford had other ideas._

_"Look, Stan. I can't pass up a chance like this." Ford reasoned, admittedly regretful, as he gestured to the West Coast Tech brochure in his hand. "This school has cutting-edge programs and multidimensional paradigm theory."_

_"Beep-boop. I am a nerd robot." Stan mocked as he made pseudo-robotic hand gestures. "That's you. That's what you sound like."_

_Ford chuckled outwardly at his brother's teasing, but inside he was somewhat frustrated. He wished Stan could see that West Coast Tech was offering him the opportunity of a lifetime, but then again, he did understand how his brother felt. He was having second thoughts about the promise they made as kids, and Stan hated that._

_"Ah well, if the college board isn't impressed with my experiment tomorrow then... okay, I'll do the treasure hunting thing."_

_"And if they are?"_

_"Welp, then I guess you better visit me on the other side of the country, hehe." Ford said as he playfully punched his brother on the arm._

_To Ford, it seemed like a good compromise. He wanted Stan to know that he wasn't exactly dead-set on leaving him behind, only that he wanted to see if he could take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But for Stan, that wasn't good enough. He put his brother before anything else, but for some reason, Ford no longer seemed willing to do the same for him._

_He forced a smile for his brother, then Ford left, and he was alone. That was the last time they talked to each other before it happened._

Ford watched his past self leave his brother's side. He wished he could take it all back. It all seemed like a good compromise at the time. He could go to a prestigious college and his brother could still visit him, or they could finish the Stan 'o' War and sail away together. Either way, he'd still have Stanley. But life had other plans, and his had gone straight to hell. Now he was alone. No brother. No college. No future.

He lightly touched the swing - he always sat on the right one, and Stanley on the left - sat down, looked out towards the sea, and... he waited. Usually when he found himself alone and at rest, it was because he was thinking. Ford had always looked at life like a series of equations, and every problem only needed logic and arithmetic in order to solve.

But not today. He'd already spent what felt like a lifetime thinking about his current dilemma, and still he had no answers. So he waited - with anxious patience - for the answer, or any realization.

He rested like a statue, images of the sea, memories of his youth, and the words of his father shuffling through his mind like a slideshow, or a puzzle with missing pieces... or rather pieces he didn't want to fit together.

As the morning turned to afternoon and the sun began to fall, and his burdened body cast a shadow over the sand, nothing changed.

It would be hilarious if it wasn't so tragic. After he found the bag of toffee peanuts as he stood at the science fair with his sabotaged project, embarrassed in front of the college board, he could see nothing but red as he angrily marched back to the pawn shop that night. He was determined to let loose on Stanley, to let him know just how betrayed he felt. He was so consumed by rage, that when his father resorted to such a drastic punishment as disowning his own son, Ford made no attempt to defend his brother. Now that he'd let his anger subside, he could no longer look back on that night with anything other than regret.

Stupid. Selfish. Worthless. Those were all words his father used to describe Stan the previous night. But now he wondered who the stupid one really was. None of this would have happened if he had just stuck with the treasure hunting plans. Maybe Stanley was the one who could see that neither of them had a future without each other. Maybe he was just terrified of losing his brother...

_No! You don't even think about forgiving him, Stanford! That jackass sabotaged your project. He destroyed your future! He knew you were always smarter than him, and he hates you for it, just like every other jerk at school does!_

**_How can he hate me? He's my brother! He can't possibly be the same as all those other guys. After all this time!_ **

_That's exactly the kind of excuse he expects you to make for him. Think Ford, for all your life, he's only been dragging you down and using your talents to get by..._

**_And now he's in the same place as I am. He's on his own, except now he doesn't even have a home he can come back to. Doesn't that mean..._ **

Suddenly he felt like he was arguing with his father again. In fact he wasn't sure whether the voice in his head was Filbrick's, or his own.

This had been his routine ever since Stanley left. Feeling lost, thinking about why he felt so lost, wondering how to fix it, and fighting with himself over whether he should forgive his brother or not.

He'd found one answer to that question the previous night, and it was an answer that he was simply too scared to even contemplate; Stanley had only been using Ford to hold himself up, and he had no regard for how he suffered for it. All of the security he'd ever felt with Stanley would have been nothing more than an illusion.

That was the truth, if what his father said was to be believed, but any possibility that may have been true would be enough to tear his whole world asunder. He just could not bring himself to accept that answer.

He noticed the sky shifting to shades of red and the sun falling to the horizon, cracking through the mold of melancholy he'd built around himself for who knows how long. He looked down and saw the ocean currents blowing amber-lit grains of sand against his boots. He'd wasted another day wallowing in his loneliness. His father would want him home soon.

_Well, at least I'm not drunk. Guess we're making progress._

Standing up, Ford took in one last breath of the sea, before turning and starting his trek back home. He didn't take in his surroundings on the way back. He'd grown weary of reminiscing. He just went straight back to the shop, somewhat in a rush to make his father's strict curfew, and opened the door with the key he'd made sure to bring with him that day. He entered to the empty shop (they closed early on Saturdays), and trudged up the stairs.

"Dad, I'm home." He announced, trying to raise his voice, yet still as deadpanned as ever. No one answered. "Mom! Pops!" He called again.

He noted the faint stench of cigarettes as he began down the empty hallway. He came to the main living quarters, and in the corner, he saw his baby brother sleeping in his crib. He then checked his parents room, but it too was empty.

Finally he came to his own room. He couldn't stop his eyes from going straight to the bed that used to belong to his brother, and immediately his heart sank. All of the ruffled up pillows and blankets hanging from the bed had still been untouched since Stanley left. Keeping Stanley's space looking like it belonged to him helped Ford remember that he only ever owned half of this room.

_'Maybe if I just kept everything the same, Stanley will come back one day.' Imagine that._

He realized he wasn't up to retiring to his room quite yet. The evening was still young, and he hadn't even eaten dinner yet. He grabbed a folded up black tee-shirt and green gym shorts that slept in during the warmer seasons, left his glasses on the desk, and went back into the hall and through the bathroom door to prepare a warm shower.

After turning on the water and allowing it to run, He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. It was depressingly unsightly. He wasn't exactly pale or malnourished (he hadn't starved himself and he wasn't sick, after all). The difference was in his eyes. The bags under them were more pronounced, and his irises were somewhat drained of their color. A few of the bruises from his fight the previous day were still visible.

"Why didn't you stand up for him?" He started whispering bitterly in a sudden fit of self-loathing. "He would have done it for you. Even if you murdered someone, Stanley would never just... let dad throw you out on the street..." He leaned over the sink, trying to force himself to feel anger, but it quickly died with the pitiful attempt. Everything just felt hollow now. "...you dumb fuck."

He shook his head, frustrated with his emotional numbness, before again trading glares with his reflection. He needed to feel something, he needed to feel anything other than this emptiness. He needed an escape. Drinking wasn't an option. The house didn't need two smokers, especially with the baby around. He started picturing a clean blade, blood running down his arm...

_No! Can't do that! If something goes wrong... I can't do that to mom and dad!_

He started shaking frantically, and he tried to lock up his body in response, but his limbs trembled and quaked with greater intensity, defying his control. "Goddamn it!" He exclaimed louder than he had meant to, before suddenly striking the wooden drawer underneath the sink with his knee. A sharp pain shot through his leg, and he couldn't help but relish in the stimulation.

_Damnit man! Pull yourself together!_

He closed his eyes as he inhaled and tilted his head back, then breathed out as steam from the running water began to rise.

_Keep it together, keep it together... keep it together, Ford. Deep breath._

He unbuttoned his shirt and began to strip down, each article of clothing pooling around him until he was completely naked. The steam enveloped his skin, opening his pores and allowing the tension in his body to drip off his limbs. Freud knows the last thing he needed was his parents thinking he belonged in an asylum.

He stepped into the shower, and for a moment he simply stood in the running water, keeping the pace of his breath and letting the water soften his skin. The constant sensation of the water's warmth as he stood in this box, closed off from the rest of the world, was enough to remind him that he wasn't a wandering spirit, that he was still physically bound to the world. Yet as he leaned back against the wall, looked down, and watched the sprinkling liquid fall and disappear into the drain, he found himself wishing that the water would melt away his skin and body and whisk him somewhere far from here.

_Perhaps I'll end up in the ocean and the waves will take me to the other side of the world. Heh, now that's silly._

He sighed as he took the soap and began to scrub himself down, scraping over his bruises with so much force that they became raw. If there was one part of his personality he could actually keep intact at this point, it was his cleanliness.

He turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower. He dried himself, starting with his hair, then put on his pajamas and left the bathroom. Walking back through the hall, it seemed his mother and father still had yet to return.

At almost 8:00 PM it was still too early for sleep. Re-entering his room, he grabbed his glasses off the desk and sat down... then quickly realized he really had nothing to do. Then again that seemed to be a realization he came to every half-hour these days.

From the silence of his room, he heard the opening and closing of the front door to the pawn shop downstairs. His mother and father had most likely made it back in. He figured he should go show his face downstairs, so his dad would at least know he hadn't been late for his curfew.

He made his way back downstairs, but scanning the unlit pawnshop, he realized it was still empty. His first thought was to peek out the front door, and sure enough, his mother was outside, blowing smoke from a cigarette.

"Hey..." he greeted as warmly as he could muster as he stepped outside. "I-I didn't see you when I came in."

She turned to him with some attempt at an innocent smile. "Oh, I just had to run and get a pack of cigarettes after I put the baby to sleep."

He thought back to the smell of tobacco in the hallway, and briefly wondered how much she'd already smoked that day.

"Where's dad?" Ford asked, looking around the vicinity.

She seemed notably hesitant to answer that question. "He's... out. Slow business day kinda got him down, so you can probably guess what he's doing right now."

_And he wonders why I might be a drinker..._

"Hmm... another one." Ford whispered as he looked back at the shop with a solemn gaze. "You think the shop might be living its last days?"

His mother's shoulders drooped with a sudden heaviness, but she managed a smile for her son, albeit a sad one. "We gotta make it work, especially now with the baby. You know your father always wished he could retire early. But..." she sighed, "that's life."

She took in another whiff of her cigarette. Ford began to think, if he no longer had a future waiting for him across the country or out at sea, then maybe...

"If you need me to stay and help out with the shop, I could-"

"Don't!" She interrupted with a firmness more befitting of her husband. Her voice became deadly serious. "The first opportunity you get, you get out of this place! You understand that!? Leave this place!"

There were so many questions that came to him in that moment. But there was one that stuck out with such audacity, he had to turn away with the shame it made him feel. Yet he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Is that why you didn't say anything... when dad made Stanley leave?" The moment he finished that question, he could almost see her blood running cold. "You thought he could find a better place for himself."

"That might leaving out a few important details, but yes, I did," she admitted with a brutal honestly uncharacteristic of her.

"You could have thought of a better way to do that, don't you think?" He stated with a tone the slightest bit accusatory.

"Your dad couldn't be bothered to think of a better way."

Ford crossed his arms as his eyes began to wander, contemplating a very troubling revelation. She made it seem like Filbrick had been thinking about disowning Stanley even before that night.

"Did dad hate Stanley?" He suddenly asked, lacing his question in the faintest hint of bitterness.

"Not exactly, but you know," she raised her eyebrows in a knowing manner, "your father always favored you for your potential. He's always going where there's money involved, and he won't lift a finger for anything else. Every child deserves something better than that."

Ford pressed his hand to his clenched eyelids, his frustration tipping him over the edge.

"This isn't right. We need to fix this. We need to talk to dad, get Stanley back and get this family back together!"

"No! Ford, there's no future for him here. There's nothing..." she trailed off, her head falling with a heavy, regretful sigh. "There's nothing left here, for either of you. Your father will let you stay until you're ready, but when you gotta go, you get yourself together and you **go**."

"Why do you want me to leave?!" He yelled with a volume betraying his anger. He felt what little was left of his innocence being torn away by his mother's confessions and God, he wished things could just go back to the way they were.

"I don't **want** you to leave." Her eyes fell away from him as she held back a sob. She reached up to caress her son's face with tears in her eyes. "I just want you to have your brother back. After what happened last night... I knew just how much you really needed him."

He gently grasped her hand with his own, feeling his heart breaking under the weight of his mother's tears. He gently pushed her hand down, until he was simply holding it in an attempt to comfort her.

"What about you? What about having your son back." He pleaded, returning his gaze to hers. The answer she gave was enough to shatter his spirit completely.

"I lost Stanley the moment I didn't speak up for him when it mattered."

Ford thought there were only a few things more suffocating than his own crippling loneliness. But what was worse than drowning in his own regret was watching his mother suffer in the same way.

The best thing he could think of doing was holding his arms out for an embrace. Just like that, she fell into his arms, and released all of her sadness into his shoulder. In that moment, he wished he could be that innocent twinkle in her eye that Stanley always was. They stood like this, under the last wisps of twilight in the streets of Glass Shard Beach, for what felt like hours.

She hastily wiped her face when she finally pulled away from him. "Oh, it's getting late. We still need to eat," she strained to say through her dried up tears, trying to bring back some levity to the air around them. "Why don't we go inside and order a pizza? That sound good?"

Ford silently nodded in agreement, only then realizing how hungry he was. His mother turned to go back inside, but Ford found himself staying put.

"Coming, Sweetheart?"

"Yeah, in a second."

His mother left the door slightly open behind her, and just like that, he was alone again. He found his gaze going up to the sky, watching the stars and constellations he would look up to out in the ocean, when he and Stanley finally sailed away from this dumb town.

"She misses you, Stanley."

The last words he whispered before going back inside were the words he knew to be true ever since his brother left, but refused to admit until that moment.

"I miss you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm getting better at this. Usually putting out a crappy chapter would send me back into writer's block for another four months, but this time I actually felt compelled to go back and fix it.)
> 
> And there you have. Chapter 2 redone. Hopefully this version of the chapter is much more improved than the original, and I can feel more comfortable moving on to chapter 3. Leave a review and let me know whether you think I succeeded or failed.


End file.
